They drive a white van

I had this post scheduled to go up tonight, but I thought I'd post it earlier because there's lots going on over at Mama Mia about Stranger Danger today. I didn't edit the post, just hit 'publish' early. It may or may not be relevant to the discussion at MM.

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It always amuses me when Maxi-Taxi begins a sentence with "I can't go to sleep because..." What's he cooking up now? I think to myself. This better be good. And invariably it is.

The other night he told me that he couldn't go to sleep because he needed to run around the house ('do laps'). I said, "It's sleep time now, Max. Not time for laps." He said, "But how am I supposed to sleep in all this energy?"

The kid has a point.

Another night he couldn't sleep because his heart was too soggy. "I'm scared and when you won't sit with me, my heart gets soggy," he said. I sat with him. I'm weak like that.

He's a sensitive soul, so you have to tread carefully when issues of monsters, robbers, spiders, the moon and anything else likely to go bump in the night come up. One false move and it's matchsticks for the rest of the night. Which is why I found myself on eggshells when the issue of Stranger Danger was raised.

"They come and get you in a white van," he said. "They snatch you off the side of the road when you're waiting to cross at the lights. Even when you're good, they get you."

What are they telling them at that school? I wondered, crunching away on my eggshells. We've always had a relaxed approach to 'Strangers'. You can talk to anyone you like as long as Mum or Dad or another grown-up you know is with you. We didn't want our children growing up thinking it's okay to be unfriendly or, worse, fearful, just because they don't know someone. It's not okay to live your life in fear that a random tragedy is going to happen to you. Strangers aren't to be feared at our place, rather they often offer a lovely exchange in the middle of an otherwise frenetic day.

Of course, when you're by yourself, you aren't allowed to even notice them.

I raised the white van kidnappers at the P + C Meeting the next night. "What are you telling the kids about kidnappers in white vans?" I asked.

Mirthful looks were exchanged between teachers. "It's always a white van," one said in amazement. "We give them a thoughtful, educative chat about coming to the front office if they are not collected on time after school, they discuss it amongst themselves and the next thing you know the story about the stranger in the white van is doing the rounds again. That white van has been circling the school for decades."

Hmmm... needless to say, that bit of schoolyard folklore meant that Maxi-Taxi couldn't sleep and was threatening to boycott school the next day. I had to turn him around quicksmart by asking him why anyone would want to take a kid? Especially one that doesn't sleep, doesn't listen and doesn't eat their vegies?  He couldn't come up with a single reason.

So, the next day he goes to school and all was well. When I saw him that evening his eyes were wide and he was leaping out of himself with excitement. "Mum, Mum! MUM! A Stranger approached me today."

"Really, an actual Stranger? Where were you? What did they say?"

"I was in the playground and a lady came up and asked me where the Mandarin classes were held," he said breathlessly.

"And what did you say to her?"

"Well... I said to her 'Do you drive a white van?' and she said 'no', so I told her they were in the library."

Oh, Maxi.

How do you approach 'the Stranger thing' with your children?

Do you think they listen?

[Image via weheartit - yes, I know it's a red van and this post is about a white van, but I couldn't find a pic of a white van that didn't look like... well, a pic of a white van. It's that simple.]

Dummy parenting

Yeah, so The Badoo still has a "dummer". The only thing dummer than the dummer in this house is the parents for letting their three year old continue the habit. The rule is that it's for bedtime only, but the reality is that the bloody thing is hanging out of her mouth more often than not. She really, really loves it.

She asked for dummers for her birthday. Aside from nail polish and shoes and world peace, that's all she wanted. Who could resist?

Well, probably 99% of the good parents out there, but secretly I can't really see the harm. There's the teeth thing, of course, but she already has an overbite on her that could rival Freddie Mercury's, so I think the dental damage is done. Really, unless you're going to wean your very young baby off the dummy (or, of course, never give it to them in the first place - heelllllo first baby!), it's just a fact of life that you're going to be buying them braces at some point.

Maxi-Taxi never took a dummy. This was mainly because back before I knew what I was getting myself into with this whole parenting gig, I was adamant that no child of mine was going to have a dummy. I'm not exactly sure why, but I just knew dummies were 'bad' and parenting without them was 'good'. By the time I woke up to myself he was six weeks old and not having a bar of it. I spent ridiculous amounts of time popping the dummy in and watching it instantly pop back out - he was like the world's kindest poker machine. For the record, the kid took three months to learn how to breastfeed and then wouldn't ever take a bottle, so maybe he was just annoying in general.

Needless to say, Cappers was plugged before we even left the delivery room. "What're you lookin' at," I recall growling at the disapproving midwife (I later blamed my rudeness on the post-birth drugs, but we all know that was a lie). Cappers, who is of course the self-raising baby, spat the dummy out at about 4 months old and that was the end of that.

And then along came The Badoo. Grumpy. Third Born. Addict.

The only time it really drives me crazy is when she talks with it in.

"Urg wruf moo gun," she says.

"I love you too, don't talk with your dummy in!"

She has this trick where she twists the dummy around and around using her tongue. You'd swear you can hear the faint sounds of carnival music while she does it. Da da dah dah dah dah da da dah dah. Roll up, roll up and see the fantastical, the magical, the amaaaaaaazing three year old Freddie Mercury lookalike!

Cracks me up every time.

Anyway.

I know it's bad, but we're not even close to working our way free of this dummy vice. She likes it, it gives her comfort... where's the harm I say. Should I feel guilty about that?


[Image of the Pacifier Tree - where kids go to hang their dummies when they've finished with them (unfortunately all the way over in Sweden which seems a little far for The Badoo to travel) -  by Camilla Engman - cool blog by the way!]

The Twilight Zoned Out

I haven't written about sleep in ages, which is remarkable considering that getting the Tsunamis to appreciate it in the same quantities that I do has been a preoccupation of mine for about seven years now. One day I'll do a BIG POST telling you all about the trials and tribulations of why-we-don't-get-a-lot-of-sleep-around-here and how-that-makes-us-feel... actually, writing that post will bore me so much that I might actually fall asleep, so I'll get right onto that. But, in the meantime, this is a little post about a little bit of my sleep tribulations and it's only a little bit boring.

I want to talk about the 'half sleep' - the 'Twilight Sleep'. Mothers of newborns will know exactly what I'm talking about here. It's the sleep your body is having when your brain is actually wide awake listening for your baby to make an imperceptible noise that only you can hear at around 3.37am so you can leap instantly out of bed and be at their side in a jiffy. It's the sleep you might also start having if a loud crash awakes you in the middle of the night and your brain thinks 'oh my god, one of the darling children has fallen out of bed' but your body says 'yeah, whatever' and tries to go back to sleep. Alas, after a crash like that it's only Twilight Sleep that you'll achieve.

Recently my friend the Twilight Sleep has been visiting me when Maxi-Taxi makes his 3am stealthy entrance onto the mattress we've got set up in our room for just that purpose. Yes, he has his own temporary bed at the foot of our bed and we'll just ignore the fact that recently it's been sporting it's own feather doona with a cover that marries well with our bedroom's general colour scheme...

Judge not, it's been a very lengthy, sleepless battle to get him to this semi-independent point. The idea is that he sneaks on in and if he can get himself out of his bed, up the stairs and onto the mattress without waking us, the mattress stays. If he wakes us up, the mattress goes. It's been quite a few months now and the little mattress is working it's magic. Except of course every night the sweet little boy who comes creeping as quietly as he can wakes me up anyway because I've been in Twilight Sleep mode just waiting for him to come up every night.

That's what Twilight Sleep does to a mother. It's the expectation that our children are going to need us and they probably really don't, but we can't be sure because we're only half asleep so we hear every little sound so it sounds like they sorta do. It's a vicious circle that I'm not sure how to break. Whenever I bemoaned the fact that my babies were yet again playing up during sleep time, my wise Mum always said to me "you can't make them sleep" and she was absolutely right. Unfortunately it's true that we can't make ourselves sleep, either.

If you have any suggestions whatsoever to help a Twilight Sleeper like me just go the f$#k to sleep*, please let me know. In the meantime, if you need me, just breathe extra heavily and I'll come racing.

* My absolute favourite children's book of all time.

[Image from here]

Kapow!

Check out the Pink Supergirl costume Gran and Pops got for the Badoo's birthday. How Supercool is that!

Inspired by the antics of the Badoo's new alter-ego, all three Tsunamis were soon practicing their best Superhero moves on the trampoline.

Kapow! (Please ignore the singlet tag indicating that the singlet is on back to front and instead check out Maxi-Taxi's 'when is it my turn to act crazy in front of the camera face' in the background there...)

A Superfrog leaping, can you believe? (Ho hum, says Cappers, picking at a loose thread on the tramp cover.)

All three Superheros were soon dead for reasons known only to themselves.

Do you have a trampoline? What sorts on things do your children get up to at playtime? Any fake deaths?

This week I'm grateful for... trying

We have a saying around our house: "Don't say can't, say I'll try". It's a necessary saying because if a child has ever uttered the words "I can't" more than Maxi and Cappers, I'd like to meet them. Every time they say I can't, I bang on with my favourite saying and 9.9 times out of 10, they'll give something a go (the other 0.1 times they moan something about 'not that again, Mumma').

I like to think that I'm a trier myself. I hate to think that I'm a can'ter, that's for sure. So, when I stepped out last Saturday with the intention of walking for the duration of Maxi's OT session (45 mins) and found myself running the route instead, well, I felt like I was walking the talk, that's for sure. As a matter of fact, I was running the talk and that's even better.

So, this week I'm grateful for...

133. Trying - just getting in there and giving something a go. Like we remind our kids 27 times a day.

134. Running - for the first, oh, five minutes I just had the biggest grin on my face. It had been such a long time since I'd run at any kind of pace and the feeling was absolutely joyous.

135. Rest days - after those first deluded minutes, I really had to drag my sorry self around those mean streets. And the next day, sheesh, why on earth were my inner thighs in agony? I must have such a weird run to make that happen. In my head I'm smartly running along as if I should be wearing lycra. In reality, it's a very good thing I'm not.

PS - It's the Badoo's 3rd birthday party so I apologise in advance that I won't be around much to visit you. I'd love it if you'd visit one extra Grateful blogger on my behalf today, just to show we care. I'll post about the Pink Party (yes, she just wanted 'pink' - how's my life?) on Sunday! x

So, what's making you smile today? Add your I'm Grateful For post to the list below (and please, we love you, but it really does matter that your post is a Grateful one and not just a random), add the button (grab the code from my sidebar and paste it into your post) and pretty-please add a link back to me. Then pop over to visit other bloggers who are spreading a little sunshine.





[Image by Brittney T via Flickr]

School Run: Half-Marathon

It's Wednesday afternoon and I'm on the tools.

School Pick-up.

Pram wheels whizzing in front, six kids trailing behind; a slow caravan of feet-dragging, backpack-heaving, high-spirited blue. And a Euphonium.

Keep up Slowest Boy in the World, don't make me come back there.

No we can't play in the playground, Flygirl's got to get to art class.

Hold onto the pram, Cappers, we're crossing in a minute. Yes, you do need to hold onto the pram. No, you're not old enough to cross by yourself even if I watch you very carefully and you look right and left and left again. And, by the way, it's left then right then left again - that's why you can't cross the road by yourself.

No you can't come out of the pram, Badoo. You wanted the pram, you got the pram, I hate the pram, I'm not pushing an empty pram. And a Euphonium.

Okay, I'll carry your heavy bag, Sambochips. Load it on top of the pram. Really, Cappers? I have to carry yours too? And Max - okay, just put all the bags onto the pram and I'll put these two on my back and, okay, Badoo, you can get out of the pram now. Please, Badoo, you wanted to get out and now I need you to... oh, forget it. Maxi, just balance yours on top of the Euphonium. Just call me 'pack horse', no problems.

Well, honey, a pack horse is usually a donkey or mule or, oh, just forget it. Forget I said anything.

Maxi, leave the birds alone, we're about to cross.

Slowest Boy in the World, leave the birds alone, we're about to cross.

No, really, Cappers, don't worry about what a mule is. Really. Don't. Worry.

We cross. Six kids, six backpacks, a pram, a sagging mumma. And a Euphonium.

Okay, everyone into the car. Seat belts on. There you go, Badoo. Forgodsakes, bend, Badoo, BEND. Yes, you have to wear a seat belt. Yes, you have to wear a seat belt. Yes, you have to wear a seat belt. Just put the seat belt on, Badoo.

Everyone else got their seat belts on? Seat belts? Put your seat belts on. Seat belts! Cappers? Flygirl? Sambochips? Maxi? Slowest Boy in the World? Oh come on, SBITW.  Maxi, help the kid out would ya?

I'll explain what a mule is later, Cappers. Don't worry about it right now. Just forget about it. You can, you  really, really can.

Right. Six bags into the boot. Pram into the boot. And a Euphonium.

FuckmedeadthisbloodyEuphoniumhowthehelldoIgetthisintothecar. @#%$^ beep &$%* ^&%$$# beep beep #$%!$@!

Right.

Okay.

We're in. I can drive with half a Euphonium on my lap, no problem. What do you mean you're hungry and thirsty? You're not the ones who've just lugged six kids, a pram, six backpacks and a freakin' Euphonium up the goddamn hill. Here, share this mouthful of water amongst yourselves and here's six crumbs left over from this morning's toast. Enjoy.

And, seriously, Flygirl. Seriously. What in god's name is wrong with the flute?

What's 'pick-up' like for you?

Do you love it as much as I do?

Do you hang around the gate and chat to the other mums? 

Do you get there early or are you always running late?

What's your baggage allowance like?

[Image by Derek R Hampshire]

Heelllo Autumn!

Fears that Autumn had passed us by were put to rest on the weekend. What glorious weather! We went for brunch at our favourite cafe and then across the road to a secret little neighbourhood park that no-one ever seems to go to but us.

Crunchy leaves under-foot soon become a mist of confetti.

Leaves in the mouth, leaves in the ears and, oh, what's that! Leaves in the nose!?

Washed down perfectly with a sunny orange and a little Cappers cheer.

One day you'll regret your refusal to pose for a picture, Badoo. When you come all sad to Mumma saying "why are there more pictures of Maxi and Cappers than me?" I will remind you of this day.

Can't I just get ONE decent photo of all three of you? Just one?

Ah well, two outta three ain't bad.

Are your children willing models? Or do they go crazy and refuse to comply like mine?
Any tips for getting them to be 'nice'?

Removing the hurdle

Every now and then the responsibility of being a parent king-hits me right between the eyes. More than the usual 'am I doing this right?' angst. More than the permanent worry that one of my children might turn out to be 'that kid'.* More even than the constant quest to get the right kind of nutrients into those little bodies. More than that.

Yesterday was our school's K-2 cross country. A lap around the back oval with the long-jump pit thrown in for the 'country' bit; run to much fanfare. Neither of my children was remotely interested in participating, Cappers is quite nervous about doing anything that will be judged in front of a large group - more on that another time for this is Maxi's story.

Maxi moaned and groaned about having to actually run and come in last place because "that's just the way I turn out every single time." Very matter-of-fact, but a catch was there. A sigh.

It breaks your heart to hear your child talk like that. You can tell them time and time again that it "doesn't matter where you place, just that you finish the race." But I guess deep down we're all thinking, yeah, right. Even at seven they know that that's not really how the world works.

Well, yesterday, I learned that while that might be true, it's still, thank god, not the way that happiness works.

See, it's me with the problem.

I'm the one who's been a little bit ashamed that my son isn't the superstar sporty type. That he's the kid inspecting the grass while his team scores a goal. That's he's the one trailing behind all his friends as they race into the bush to look for treasure. I get slightly panicked about what he'll do when sport is everything to his peers and not to him.

It seems that deep down I'm a little bit ashamed of his lack of prowess and a whole lot ashamed that I feel that way.

The thing is, until yesterday, I hadn't even realised that I felt shame. I've never acknowledged it. If someone had asked me about Maxi's sporting abilities or lack thereof, I would have made a little joke that showed how proud I was of him regardless. And I was always proud of him - my beautiful, strong, lit-from-within son; but now I realise that there was a big, fat 'but' attached to that pride.

Yesterday.

Yesterday, my non-sporty son felt the fear and did it anyway. He started that race with a smile and a slap on the back from a mate and he ran that race with a smile and he finished in last place barr one (kid fell over) with a smile that would light up the moon.

Watching him run around that field, wind at his back, joy in just the doing of it, I thought my heart would leap out of my chest with pride. This was what pride without the buts felt like. Just enormous, gushing pride and so much joy in his joy and no thought about what it meant for me or about me.

It's not about me. It is never about me. None of this parenting business is. My children's achievements are their own, just as their hurdles are their own. It's about them and their place in the world and it's up to me to stand back and let them find that place, even if it's last place. To get out of the way with my ego and my pride and my little ideas about what they should and shouldn't be doing.

To just get out of the way already, and let those sweet kids run their own race.



* You know that kid. Every school has that kid. We all remember that kid.


[Image by tallthinguy]

Seriously, a dwarf?

I'm not entirely sure how we got around to the subject, but Mum and I were talking about midgets the other night, as you do. (Is the term midget acceptable? I apologise if not). I work with a woman who is a person of small stature and I was telling Mum that Leona's* young children are 'normal sized children' and taller than she is. Again, not sure how it came up, but chats with my Mum tend to cover most things.

So, on Saturday Cappers had a 'morning tea' date at her friend Sam's to make cupcakes. Which left Maxi and The Badoo alone for the first time in... well, probably forever. I said to Max, "what do you think you'll do all day without Cappers?" and he said, "I'm going to play with The Badoo for the whole entire day. She's all mine."

Fabbo, I thought.

I stopped in to see how they were going a little bit into their morning. "What are you playing?" I asked.

"Mums and Dads. The Badoo is the Mum and I'm her son."

"Sounds great, but The Badoo is a really small mother." (You can see where this is going.)

"Yes," he said, quick as you like. "She's a dwarf and I'm her normal-sized child."

Ah, I see. I don't even know where he got the term 'dwarf' from, but it was probably from the kind of dreadful person who uses the term midget.

What conversations have your children eavesdropped on lately? Incidentally, don't feel bad about sharing. I still can't get The Badoo to stop saying 'For Fox Sake' every now and then and now Maxi has introduced dwarfism into his role playing. Must be more careful!

* Hi Leona!

This week I'm grateful for... moments

My boy turned 7 today. SEVEN. How can it be seven years and 2 days since I first went into labour? Yes, you read that right; Maxi took a looooong time coming into the world.

He was probably too scared to come out.

That's my boy, a little bit scared of most things and absolutely petrified of sleep from day one. But each and every year he gets braver and sleepier and more and more gorgeous. He's just a bundle of yum. I am very surprised he made it to seven without his mother eating him all up.

So, this week I'm grateful for...

121. Moments - that moment when I first thunder-clapped eyes on my very first baby.

122. Enthusiasm - if there is one word I would use to describe Maxi at Seven, it would be 'enthusiasm'. It pours out of him like a stream.

123. Reading - and watching my child read his birthday card message all by himself.

PS - Some bike-loving dude won the People's Choice award over at the Sydney Writers' Centre. I can't compete with motorsports. Thanks for voting for me!

So, what's making you smile today? Add your I'm Grateful For post to the list below (and please, we love you, but it really does matter that your post is a Grateful one and not just a random), add the button (grab the code from my sidebar and paste it into your post) and pretty-please add a link back to me.  Then pop over to visit other bloggers who are spreading a little sunshine. 

Happy weekend to you!

This week I'm grateful for... confidence

Three long years of swimming lessons.

By December 2010 he was still clinging to the steps, floaties on, bubble on; fearful, reluctant, stubborn, his hair dry. By January 2011 he is leaping unaided into the deep end to fetch rings at the bottom of the pool. Amazing stuff.

One thing changed: he was visited by our dear friend Confidence.

I think I can do it.

I know I can do it.

I'm going to do it.

This time I'm really going to do it.

Look, Mum! I'm doing it! I'm really doing it!

So, this week, I'm grateful for...

1. Confidence - thank you for showing my boy that he can conquer his fears and learn new loves.

2. My children's school - our second year in a row that you have taken a anxious Kinder child gently by the hand and embraced them with the joy of school life. You are a wonderful bunch of teachers, staff and families and we are lucky to have you.

3. Zooper Doopers - without you I would have exploded in the heat.

So, what's making you smile today? Grab my I'm grateful for... button from my sidebar if you like, add your I'm Grateful For post below and please add a link back to me in your post. Then pop over to visit other bloggers who are spreading a little sunshine. Happy day to you!

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P.S. Michelle from Mummy From the Heart runs a 'Reasons to be Cheerful' linky on Fridays. 

It's like the British version of 'I'm grateful for...' (and 'cheerful' seems such a very British word all of a sudden, doesn't it?). Pop over and link up to say hi.*

* Phew. Managed to nicely resist the urge to write 'g'day' there. I'm inflicted with a terrible urge to say 'g'day' whenever I encounter foreigners. It is not an expression I would ever dream of using in my day to day life. Embarrassing.

This week I'm grateful for... that pool

Hot weather, plants drooping, cicadas rattling. A lull descends.

I'm off work for two weeks. Last week of school holidays, first week back at school. Cappers is soon to be a Kinder Kid! She is champing at the bit to get in there and give this school thing a go. Maxi is schlepping about the place, terrified to go back there because he's been told he will have to 'work' in first grade. Not even 'work hard', just 'work'. The threat of actual effort is enough to send him into his own kind of lull.

But I'm going to enjoy this time with my darling, crazy, needy, loving Tsunamis, oh yes I am!

This week I'm grateful for...

 1. Our pool - I never thought I would come to love that great big water-sucking, algae-growing time-and-money-pit that came with the house. But when I see the Tsunamis leaping joyfully off the edge and swimming for hours like healthy, happy kids should... sheesh, yeah, I love it.

2. Bloggy friends - we meet so many fabulous people on these blogs of ours. It amazes me, then, that there are some people that you just 'click' with and you become firm friends even though you've apparently never met 'in real life'. Sorry, um... this is our 'real' life, isn't it? Or do I have another life somewhere that I'm unaware of? Spooky.

3. Our camera - Imagine not having 10000 images of our children on file!

[Image is of Cappers... look at me, Mum!]

So, what's making you smile today? Grab my I'm grateful for... button from my sidebar if you like, add your I'm Grateful For post below and please add a link back to me in your post. Then pop over to visit other bloggers who are spreading a little sunshine. Happy day to you!

Enter the Chinese Mother

Maxi-Taxi decided that it was time he starting riding his bike without training wheels.

I thought: "Hallelujah, Mr Six Year Old. It's a miracle!"

I said: "What a good idea!"

The session, which began with LOML patiently trying to teach him balance, rapidly went from excitement that the training wheels were off, to horror that he had to actually do something in order to stay upright, to "I'm never riding my bike again" defeat. Two times up a straight path without training wheels will do that to a boy.

He storms off across the park and flops onto a picnic table. Face like thunder.

My attempts to softly cajole him off the bench and back on the bike were met with comments such as "It's stupid", "I can't", "It's too hard", "I'm stupid", "You're stupid", "I hate my bike". My approach to this sort of negative talk has always been to say things like"Don't say 'I can't', say 'I'll try'" (and, of course, "We don't use words like stupid"!) and gently, gently (lest I break their fragile self-esteem cocoon) ease the child back to the task at hand. If all attempts to guide them back failed, I tended to give them a pep talk around "Tomorrow is a brand new day and you will feel better about trying again then" and babbling on about all the ways we'll make it fun.

Today, however, I had learned of a new approach.

Enter the Chinese mother.

"Max!" I said sternly. "I won't listen to you talk about yourself that way. It's not true and I won't have it. Now get yourself over here and get on your bike."

"No!"

"Max, I'm not going anywhere. I know you can do this so I'm going to stay right here next to your bike for as long as it takes."

"No!"

"You're not going anywhere either. We're staying here until you get back on the bike. You might not get your balance and ride today, but you're at least going to try. I know you can do this, so I'm prepared to wait."

"No!"

"I'll be right here, Max. I'm happy to sleep under the stars tonight with your bike as a pillow."

Five minutes pass.

"No!"

"I'll be right here, Max. Setting up my tent."

Five minutes pass.

"Grrrrrr...."

"Waiting for you, Max."

"Grrrrrrowwwwl!! OKAY THEN!" A small boy stomps his way across the park and collapses next to the bike. "I'm not getting on."

"It's not okay to give up. I know you can do this if you just keep trying." He gets on.

LOML starts to guide him, he pedals and gets a rhythm going, suddenly I hear the shout, "He's doing it!".

"I'm doing it!"

His face is alive with freedom and achievement as he pushes on for five pedals, six, seven... I go nuts with excitement - he's actually doing it!

He does two more times up and down the straight. LOML holds him and then lets go. Max pushes, he swooshes, he flies. Falls off the second time. Calls it a day. But he's done it, he's actually done it.

Thank you, oh thank you, Chinese Mother.

[Image by Sherry at Corporate America Runaway]

Dealing with Difficult People #1: Newborns

Excuse me while I detour from my usual Friday post - I am starting to agree with Maxi- Taxi: "learning stuff is boring". (He will go far.)

I'm not the most tactful person in the world which is less than ideal given that I work with some of the most arrogant and annoying people on earth (see "I'm not the most tactful person..."). Ergo, I've had loads of experience picking my way through social and political minefields so I thought I'd share my top tips on Dealing with Difficult People.

I'm starting with Newborns.

I've only ever worked with three of them, but I've seen quite a few in my time and let me tell you, without exception, they are all Difficult. They're selfish, cranky, demanding.... they're mean. They cry until you're blue in the face and then they zap you with one of those windy little smiles like that's supposed to make up for weeks of sleep drip torture, poo, mastitis and vomit. Worse, that windy smile works like a charm and we fall in love with them despite their general unloveliness. Like I said, Difficult.

But, here are my top five tips for managing these pesky newcomers:

1. Handle with confidence.
Do not, under any circumstances, let them know that you don't know what you're doing. They can smell fear and they will vomit on it.  A very tight wrap administered brusquely will help immensely until you've genuinely got a handle on things. Watch your midwife to get an idea of what brusque looks like. Watch her also for tips on how to handle the newborn - watching Rugby Union can also help here.


2.  Don't play with them, they don't like it.
Don't make the mistake of thinking that newborns are capable of doing anything more exhausting than eating. Every minute you spend dangling a toy in front of their face and gooing and gagaohlalaing is ten extra minutes they will spend screaming in their cot because they are so over stimulated. I learned this the hard way with Maxi-Taxi.

For the first eight weeks, cuddle them on waking, cuddle them before you put them to bed (preferably skin on skin), but if they're not actually eating (preferably skin on skin), ensure they are lying in their cot or pram ready for sleep. Playing comes later (and never, ever ends).


3. You're a family now and forevermore
Batten down the hatches and for now just fold yourself into a little family package. Some visitors are lovely and easy and leave the home in a more relaxed state than they found it it. Most are not like that. You have more important things to do than serve drinks and tidy the house for guests. Like sleep.

It's also about keeping the overstimulation down to a manageable size. Faces are MAJOR work when you're freshly minted. Know that the more people your baby sees and is held by, the crazier he will be. Guests go home, you get left with the crank all by your lonesome.


4. Newborns cry, that's what they do.
Newborns are all different, but they have two things in common. They're all mysteriously adorable and they all cry. Maxi-Taxi was an overstimulated mess. He cried every night from 6pm until 9pm, non stop. All we could do was hold him and cry right along with him. Cappers was an angel who rarely cried but when she did it she would set car alarms off in the street. The embarrassment of her screeching when we were out in public had to be experienced to be believed. The Badoo just grizzled permanently from sun down until sun up. Grumpy was her middle name and while she rarely cried, she rarely smiled either.

Your newborn will cry too and that's okay. It's up to you whether you pick them up every time they cry. Just know that they can cry in the bed just as easily as in your arms. And they'll be crying in their bed for a lot, lot longer if they get used to crying in your arms...


5. Remember, you're a newborn too.
Be gentle and kind to both your baby and yourself. You're a newborn mum and you deserve to give yourself the same loving care that you are giving your baby. Sometimes that means co-sleeping when you didn't plan to co-sleep. It means giving a bottle when you wanted to breastfeed exclusively. It means calling your neighbour and asking them to come right over to mind Cranky Pants so you can run away.

Treat yourself as you'd like your baby to treat you. With love, with kindness, with compassion, with sleep.

And remember, above all else: This, too, shall pass.

How were your newborn days? What are your best tips to share?

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PS - Come flog with me come flog come flog away... 

[Image by Suse Bauer of one of her many amazing Revoluzzza monster softies!]

When I grow up I want to be a something...

The temperamental climate at work has meant that I've been thinking about my 'career' a lot lately. I say 'career' because I abandoned the notion of a Career the instant I clapped eyes on my firstborn. While once I thought 'climbing the ladder' was a purposeful and interesting way to spend my time, nowadays I have a job and I'm happy with that. But sometimes I think 'coulda, shoulda, woulda...'

I'm 'in advertising', I used to be 'in marketing' and then at one stage I was 'in PR'. What I really want for the Tsunamis is that they be A Something.  A plumber, a delivery driver, a doctor, a farmer, a zoo keeper, a researcher... just A Something. A Something that has a bit of meaning, that's a Career, a Vocation.

At my work the expression 'we're not saving lives' is often raised to try to quell the hysteria that builds when we are behind on our mega-urgent, mega-important drop-dead oh-dear-god-are-we-going-to-make-it  deadline... to put an advertisement into a newspaper. (Hmmmm... I wonder what the neurosurgeons say when they are equally as Stressed Out with Very Pressing and Important Matters?)

I'd like the Tsunamis to be able to say "Me? Oh, I'm A..." and launch into a riveting account of their day doing something important. "I saved a woman's house from flooding" or "I helped birth a baby elephant" or "I introduced three new people to the artwork of Bugalugs".

Maxi used to want to work in a museum but now he wants to be A Film Maker and make films about animals (or Zhu Zhu pets judging by his debut film which wrapped about a month ago and is currently in editing). Cappers wants to assist Maxi to make films about animals (not surprisingly she used to want to assist Maxi at the museum). But in her spare time she wants to be An Artist. The Badoo is practicing to become A Kickboxing / Headbutting / Martial Arts Expert. She's but moments away...

Do you have aspirations for your children? What do they want to be when they grow up?

[Image by Ben Heine]

The fairy Collection (updated)

At her recent Christening, The Badoo received a Tinkerbell dress, DVD and doll from her Zia Lucia.* Maxi-Taxi was fascinated by the story on the DVD and then overjoyed when he discovered that Cappers already owned two Tinkerbell dolls. Instantly, he had three fairy dolls, which is all Maxi-Taxi needs to be off and away into the Land of Imagination. That boy just loves a Collection.

This morning he cautiously asked what I thought of him taking the fairy Collection into school to play with at Big Lunch.  The conversation went a little like this:

M-T: I'm thinking of taking in the Fairy Collection to school to play with at Big Lunch.

Me: That sounds fun. (Thinking: Oh dear lord, does he not want any friends?)

M-T: Well, I don't think the boys will want to play with them...

Me: Hmmmm... maybe not. (Are you crazy? I'm not usually hung-up on gender specific toys, but believe me you'll be the laughing stock of the entire boy part of the school!)

M-T: They might laugh at me.

Me: They might. (What, is he reading my mind now? He's SUCH a strong, confident, loving... of course he's not reading my mind... different child...)

M-T: I could play by myself, or with the girls... no, not with the girls, but by myself.

Me: Yes, that could be fun. (There is nothing wrong with playing by yourself at school. There is nothing wrong with playing by yourself at school. There is...)

M-T: So should I take them in?

Me: Well, you know the boys might laugh and want to play something else but you've decided you could play by yourself... so you can make your mind up knowing what you know.

M-T: Okay, I'll take them in.

Me: Good decision (Oh no). You'll enjoy playing with them (ALONE). Just grab a bag to put them in... ah, okay, the pink bag is a good idea. (Forgodsake we have to have a pink bag too!?). Enjoy yourself, Sonshine.

And off to school he went.

And I sit here wondering... how is my boy doing?

* Zia never misses an extravagant gifting opportunity!

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Postscript



How the boy was doing...

Okay, so apparently Tinkerbell and Friends have poisonous wings that kill you as soon as they brush past your face. And their eyes shoot out bolts that paralyse your body and make foam come out of your mouth. And they like wrestling. They are battleaxe fairies.

Apparently, the boy brigade couldn't get enough of them...

[Image via tumblr Please let me know if you know the source so I can credit it properly!]

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EDIT: Yay we found the source of this fab photo. It's by Scott Wills and the sweet fairy dust was made by his talented wife Thanks for letting me know. Tumblr and weheartit are the place to go for unsourced photos. Not good!

Bringing out their best

So far, my son is not competitive. At all. There is not a stirring of passion inside him for 'being first' or 'beating someone' or 'being the best' at something. You cannot get a competitive rise out of him, no matter what you do or say. Even dangling the superiority of a two year old in front of him* has no effect whatsoever. It makes me worry.

Silly, I know. As much as I'm ever so pleased for him to be that self-contained, I worry that he'll be left behind in this ridiculously competitive society of ours. It's not that I want my children to be society's definition of 'successful', but I want them to be financially secure and unphased. To be able to do everything in life that pleases them. To live with joy. And I suppose part of me thinks that monetary success is tied up with that. Which falls out of a good job and a good education and good connections with people... so, I guess, being 'up there' is important, yes? No? Yes, no, yes... I don't know. It worries me that I don't know.

I guess the question is, really, will it worry him?

Is it possible to be too easy going? Am I being silly?

* I would never do this.

The drip, drip, drip of routine

I've always hated routine. Before the Tsunamis I was the kind of person who would mix up the route to work so I didn't have to do the same thing day in day out. The thought of already knowing today what I was going to do tomorrow was enough to make me feel a bit panicky.

Perfectly suited to young children then!

It's something I've struggled with all my babying years. When I became a mum, I knew I'd need to embrace a routine and in the early days I went so far as to 'Gina Ford' Maxi-Taxi under the assumption that my lack of routine was causing his sleeplessness. Turns out Maxi-Taxi doesn't really like routines either. It was a total, unmitigated disaster and the month we spent with meany Gina was easily the worst month of my parenting career to date.

After Maxi-Taxi refused to be Ginaed we moved into a more loose routine where as long as a pattern of feed, hang out, try to sleep prevailed, we were satisfied. I managed to handle the drip, drip, drip of a routine provided I got out of the house every day and did something completely new as often as possible.

Three Tsunamis in and these days I actually enjoy the rituals of every day living. I still need to break things up every now and then, but I'm much happier in the pocket of routine.  I'm lucky that most days are different in Maxabellaland (the Tsunamis go to different places in the morning or I'm home or I have class in the evening or... something!). It all helps. I still think I would go nuts if every day was exactly the same. In fact, I'm certain that I would.

Do you get regular breaks from your routine? Or, even better, are you lucky enough to thrive on routine?

[Image from My Sweet Prints]

The August Chronicles: What's on your fridge?

Edition 3 and I'm getting more and more into the Fridge Chronicles. Not enough to be 'styling' the fridge (although, I know me so well, it will come!) but enough to get excited when fridge time rolls around each month. Yes, that makes me a total loser, but I'm okay with that. This month I was thoughtful enough to remove the chocolate stains around the door handle that have featured in the past two editions.

LOML's 'mistress', Roger is finally getting married! The wedding is in October and already I'm having 'what will I wear' crisis moments. Needless to say, a wedding is a social calender highlight these days...

Maxi-Taxi is insisting that he joins Brightsparks, an actor /singer /dancer /waiter class on Fridays after school.  As much as I can't imagine my shy, retiring boy under the bright lights, I'm all for it.  The fact that the teacher looks like a 15 year old emo on the verge of a nervous breakdown is a little disconcerting, but Term 4 we're going for it.

My neighbour Susan is insisting that we go and see this play in September. She's in her 70s, Austrian and let me tell you, when Susan insists something will happen, it will happen. A review is forthcoming.

I've seen the '4P' parenting course advertised here and there. The counsellor at the school is conveniently running one in September and I'll be attending. Have you done one of these or any other parenting course? What did you think?

Terrible photo - sorry about that. But this little magnet has been on the fridge since Maxi-Taxi was about 3 months old. It says "It had seemed like such a good idea 12 months ago."

Imagine me leaping with joy when Maxi-Taxi informed me that he'd 'won' something at the sports carnival. Ah, another 'participation' certificate. Well done, my boy, well done.

This is LOML's list of his favourite 'mama made' Italiano meals. It's a work in progress.  A couple of weeks ago he suddenly started stressing that her recipes may one day be 'lost with her' and so began the list. Forget that she's only in her mid-sixties, fit as a fiddle and from a line of Italian peasant stock who believe dying in your mid-nineties is dying in your prime. This is too important to risk.  I insist on being present when he has 'the conversation' with her. 

So, what's on your fridge this month?

Join the linky as we chronicle the days of our lives like sands through the hourglass... Linky is open until the end of the month.

Things I learned this week including that I need to own Country

Happy Friyay to you! Friday is my favourite day of the week. Yes, I still have to go to work (although I get to work Fridays from home every fortnight... heeeello clean floors!), but the anticipation of two whole days of whatever we like is enough to make me happy. Like any journey, sometimes the anticipation of the weekend is more exciting than the actual weekend, because in my daydreams there are no whingers, whiners, tantrumers or 'mum can I?'s. Just good old fashioned promise.

And speaking of anticipation... here's my wrap up of the week that was...

1. I need to own Jasper Conran’s new book Country . It just looks like a beautiful record of a country I love. The images are divine (see the one above), it's beautifully written, it's big.


2. There’s a villa in Northern Umbria called Villa Capanne and I really, really want to go there. I just know I would be very happy there.


3. MultipleMum taught me that, not surprisingly, there’s a site dedicated to Mary watching. I'd forgotten how super-stylish and proper Mary was until zooming through this site.


4. If you promise something and you don't do the promise, you break the love (so true, Maxi-Taxi!)


5. One of the best ‘treats’ for little people is plain potato chips. They have potato, salt and oil. That’s it.


6. How to reupholster a recliner in a step-by-step fashion that I think even I can follow. This is important because we have the world’s ugliest beige recliner that was LOML’s grandfather’s. Getting it professionally reupholstered would be a bit ridiculous as the chair is older than myself, but it’s just so comfy! Wish me luck.


7. My new favourite ‘activities for kidlettes’ site is Kiddley and I'm also very impressed with Planning with Kids.


8. Natalie Bassingthwaighte has called her first-born Harper Rain. Ho hum. I find this ‘unique names’ approach is all a bit samey-samey, really. Bit irritating, actually.


9. After a 40 year pattern of women waiting to give birth until after 30 (a pattern I contributed to), Australian women are beginning to have their babies in their 20s again. I think this is great news.


10. From Polkadotbug*, a step-by-step tutorial on how to make a reversible dress for little girls. How handy is this? You're out and about, they spill, you turn the dress over, they're good to go!

Did you learn anything special this week?

PS - You know you want a flogging... go on now... head on over to Lori's for FYBF.
PPS - Today I'm also linking up with New Friend Friday at Trendy Treehouse!


* Looks like an old blog as there are no updates this year... but the tutorial rocks so I'm sad she's closed up shop!